


Mirror Men

by TheVineSpeaketh



Category: BioShock
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Sinclair Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVineSpeaketh/pseuds/TheVineSpeaketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now, here we are, standing on either side of the glass, mirror men, the both of us. Just goes to show you can't trust anything these days, not even the ones who claim they're here to help you. They'll only stab you in the back in the end. Like I did to you.</p><p>Sinclair's last moments spent with Subject Delta are full of understanding, fear, and gratitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Men

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains spoilers for the ending of Bioshock 2. Yup yup yup. Written just before bedtime, so sorry for any snags in the flow, spelling, or the grammar. :D

I can see you out the window. You're just standing there, your body turned toward the window, and I know you're looking at me. Well, I can sort of feel it. I know it only because of the way you stared out the window at the train station as I hopped in, right before those splicers tried to make a mess of things. It's the way my reflection glints in the visor of your diver's mask, direct and entirely too focused, just as it is right now, but this time, I can't bear to look back at you. I know you're disappointed, or maybe you're not. I can tell for certain, though, that this isn't what you expected from all of this. Trust me, this isn't how I wanted it to end either, sport. I wanted to leave Rapture and take you with me after ol' Tenenbaum told me about you. I wanted to see the leaders of nations bowing to us with those bouquets of money, begging for our new technological advancements, visiting us on our private island, like I said. And now, here we are, standing on either side of the glass, mirror men, the both of us. Just goes to show you can't trust anything these days, not even the ones who claim they're here to help you. They'll only stab you in the back in the end. Like I did to you.

I can tell Eleanor's talking into your ear, telling you what to do, and I know there's little time. I give you some encouragement, try to ease you along, despite being kind of scared. I know I'm going to die, and, if I'm being honest, I'm glad it's you who's going to do it. There isn't anyone else I'd rather die by, and that's the truth of it. I'd be mad if I allowed myself to live like this, a wretch bent to serve Lamb's will, for the rest of my days. I'd be a sucker if I sank with Rapture alive.

But I also know there's something in me, something that's breaking through the mind control, that could never be overwhelmed. I know it's the same thing Eleanor used to keep in touch with you, and to take care of you all this time. It's what she used to break the conditioning her own mother put her under. It's got a name, but I'm not going to say it. You need to find the code to this door and kill me, take the key, and leave. Saying all I want to say is only going to take up precious time. That's time you need, sport; time I'm not worth enough to ask for. 

You're back at the door again from where you disappeared, and I'm begging you to do me in. I would rather die a man than a slave. You pop open the door with ease, flicking the code panel with one finger, sliding each number into place. Then the door thuds, and it slides open. My body reacts before I do; I'm already heading toward you, trying to barrel past you out the door to escape. But with a well-timed swing of your drill arm, I'm bounced back, slamming into the control panel behind me. I try again without my consent to push past you, but again, you hammer me back. Then, you raise your left arm, and suddenly I'm shaking like a dog, my muscles hollering, and I realize that you just electrocuted me. I've never been on the wrong end of a plasmid, sport, and let me tell you that that wasn't any fun at all. I can feel my armor denting as you hold nothing back, hitting me as hard as you can with your drill, never truly activating the thing. Just when I regain control of my muscles, get ready to lunge again, you shock me once more, effectively paralyzing me again. I'm a sitting duck, both horrified and amazed at how well you know how to handle an Alpha. All that research really paid off, didn't it?

As you sting me one more time with the plasmid, I realize that something in me shorts out, and I'm leaning against the control panel, unable to move my limbs. You must have completely paralyzed me. You seem to realize this, for you take your time getting closer, your boots thudding against the ground as you move into position. You lean over me, a menacing mass of armor and research and weaponry, and raise your drill high, aiming toward what I know is my heart. And now I'm waiting for it, waiting for you to end me, to spin that thing straight into me so I can spin straight into oblivion. For some reason, I have never been quite so proud and afraid of you all at once. You've really grown, Johnny Topside, but it seems I have shrunk.

Instead of taking me out immediately, though, you simply stand there, your drill raised threateningly, but never taking the plunge. For a moment I wonder if you shorted yourself out somehow, or if you are waiting for a command from Eleanor. Perhaps she is saying something to you, and you're waiting for her to finish before you, in turn, finish me? The silence stretches on long enough for me to know, even in my paralyzed, hypnotized state, that no, you aren't waiting for anybody. You're just standing here. Why?

I manage to grit out a few more words, despite Lamb's stupid mental conditioning. "You're wasting precious time, sport. Do it, get the key, and get out of here, for God's sake." It physically hurt to say it, my lips no doubt bleeding from where I was biting them, but you needed to know. You need to get out of here, so you and Eleanor could finally be rid of this place.

You do move, now, but it's odd. Instead of forcing your drill through my armor you're leaning in, your visor getting closer, until it taps against mine, the two helmets touching. For a while, you don't move, and I'm left staring through my visor at you, the image tinted green but still familiar. Did you die? Did you just flop over me to rot? You can't be dead; you've survived too much to die now!  _Get up, sport, get up! You've got Eleanor to save, remember?_

Then, to my surprise, you actually  **do** get up, straightening yourself out in the slow way Big Daddies do, and you rev your drill. And suddenly, over the loud humming and the sudden spike of awareness, staring into the reflection of myself, I understand exactly what that was.

Then there's nothing but blood, blackness, and oblivion, and I'm one key lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://exacteyewriting.tumblr.com)


End file.
